


Aspiring Thoughts

by orphan_account



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Red vs Blue - Freeform, rvb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artificial intelligence program Epsilon recalls his own memories as well as the Alpha’s and the Director’s.  Originally an entire project, however cut short due to a lack of interest.  Chapter one is presently available, which recounts what happened when the recording was made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aspiring Thoughts

I think I’m a pretty fucking great guy.

She’s a malevolent piece of shit that’s a little too over-aggressive, and maybe she’s also a little dangerous and definitely hard to talk to: but she’s great. Fucking great, and she’s a lot more than what I just said she was, and she’s a lot more than me.

And that’s where this starts. With me, and then her; even if technically it should start with her. But it doesn’t, because in a way this starts with me and then she follows alongside the flood of other memories. That’s not a really detailed description of who is who and what is what. I mean, so far she’s only ‘she’ and I’m only ‘he’ or ‘me’ and everyone else is basically not-so-important right now so they don’t even have pronouns or names to go by.

So let me change that by saying that I’m Leonard Church. I’m the Alpha. I’m a bunch of crumbled memories that somehow makes a person. I’m a literal fragment of my former self. I’m Epsilon, and I remember a lot of what’s happened because someone once told me that memory is the key.

She’s Agent Texas. She’s Beta, and she’s a lot of different things that certain people haven’t been able to let go. She’s a failure because that’s what she’s based on, and while I’ve been through a lot of stuff, she’s been through more. I’m obsessed. Sure, the only reason why I’m obsessed and desperate not to let go is because I’m based off of a man that made her for that exact reason; but I’m obsessed either way. That’s her. That’s Agent Texas. That’s Beta.

That’s Allison and that’s the person that gets longer paragraphs than me.

And this is where this entire thing starts. With memory being the key concept and she being a main focus. Asides from me being the main focus, anyway. There are distractions. ‘Course there are distractions. There’s a hell of a lotta gaps between what we do and what we do when we do it. But, distractions, yeah. I mean; I’m narrating my own thoughts like this is a goddamn movie and I’m Mr. Fucking-Preciously-Pompous-Ass-Narrator-Shitbag, so there’s gotta be those. Distractions.

So let’s start this off before there’s any more distractions.

 

. . .

 

I think I mentioned before that someone once told me that memory is key. They were a very logical someone, so I listened to them, and you know what? They’re right. Memory is key. Especially when your entire existence revolves around memory.

I remember a lot.

I remember the start of this story from Alpha. From myself. I remember the reason why I’m here and the disgusting reason as to why other people have been pulled into the same orbit that is this story. I remember the start of this story before I was even in it, and it started with what I was based off of and the reason why I was here.

The reason why I’m here in an absolutely pathetic reason, by the way. I’ll tell you about it later, but for now—because there’s gotta be some explaining here and less waiting—let’s just say someone thought it better to walk down memory lane and sit his stupid ass down on the lawn’s fresh green grass and decide that ‘hey, I think I’ll stay here’. And then he got even more over-comfortable by taking out those old lawn chairs from the garage and propping his feet up and staring at the sky before eventually deciding that he’d just move in because goodbyes aren’t good but they are byes.

Funnily enough for him, this starts with an unsaid goodbye. I starts with me holding a camera and looking at her.

Correction: it starts with _him_ holding a camera and looking at her.

She’s leaving, and she’s all decked out with stuff from the UNSC and for the love of me: I can’t go back so far and remember the reason why. Leonard Church, human in every way; is recording this. He doesn’t say a word as he films this goodbye on camera. He only holds the device in his hands and makes as little noise as possible. For some reason Allison is the main focus here; and her words to him are the only thing he’d like to listen to. Not an exchanging of words between both of them—just her own. If he had thrown any input in there it probably wouldn’t of ended nicely, because he was going to watch this over and over again: and if he had said something, Church only would have beaten himself up over it. Over, and over, and over again. Thoughts like _I could’ve said something better, to make her stay_ and other equally useless things.

I assume that’s why the video is all cut up when the file is viewed now. Because he does say a word and he does say plenty of things that could be thought over if the file was viewed over and over again. Viewed over and over again; as it will be, and as it has been.

. . .

Allison warned him that she’d be leaving. That had been emphasised over, and over, and over, and over again, for too many days to bother remembering. Leonard Church knew this and found that the slowly approaching date was a regrettable one at that, and often times he found himself complaining to her about the possibilities. The possibilities of not going through with this and simply staying home and living a boring and bland life while arguing and smoking and watching stupid movies and getting drunk at times and all that moronic stuff.

Maybe he should’ve brought up a much more important thing that required responsibility and both of them there (especially her) to have things done right. But he didn’t do that. He didn’t bring that into the argument. So here he was.

Church held the camera—one of the ones you balanced in the palm of your hand and curled your fingers around—towards the ground, tapping his foot to the non-existent beat. Allison had just walked out of the building behind them, and of course she was wearing that terrible camouflage with the hat and of course she had that incredibly standard armour and of course there was that pack and gun leaning against the building wall, and of course this was a damn-well regrettable day.

 _It’d be nicer if the skies were grey and it had rained yesterday,_ Church thinks sourly to himself: and stops tapping his foot against the ground. _Of course_ the weather is also regrettably unfitting. It’s ridiculously sunny out and those goddamn birds are chirping away with such happiness that it seems like they’re mocking him. Mocking _him_ on this day. Fuck those feathery fucks.

Allison is just now walking up to Church, and her footsteps are heavier against the concrete floor than they normally are. Blame the armour. She shoots a glance down at the camera and another one up at Church’s face; pursing her lips together, apparently unamused by the whole concept of departing on video. Even if the camera is off right now. “Alright, what’s this about?” she asks, glaring down at the camera and folding her arms neatly over her chest. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail; something Allison never bothers with doing.

“You’re leaving, so I might as well get it on camera,” he retorts with a huff.

“I’m leaving and I’m _probably_ going to come back and there’s no reason for you to get it on camera.”

“Shut up and let me mourn your loss the way I want to.”

“You’re so melodramatic,” turning her head towards the door—knowing that Leonard was keeping her from things more important than this—she decides to just go with it. It wasn’t like this was a stupid home video they’d sit down and watch on the television sometime. No, it wasn’t that at all. It was a departure video, and it was being recorded away from home.

“So I can do it?”

“I’m not going to stop you.”

He takes the lens cap off the camera and moves his finger over the record button eagerly. “Sweet,” grinning, Church positions the camera in front of him and focuses on Allison’s face. She looks dully into the lens, and makes no comment for a long moment.

“Hi, I’m Allison, and this is jackass,” she says sarcastically.

“I’m so glad that when I look back at this, the first words will be ‘Hi, I’m Allison, and this is jackass.” This was definitely a portion that needed cutting out.

“What do you want me to do then?”

“I don’t know. Look off into the distance and fix your hat or something,” Church shrugs, and Allison does exactly that. Rolling her eyes before looking off into the distance and fixing her hat in the most melodramatic way she can bother to manage right now. Despite this being more of a sad occurrence than an angering one, she was coming off as someone in a sour and anticipating mood. Well—he _was_ keeping her from important duties, but still.

He records these melodramatic shots for a while more. One minute at most, and then Allison is grabbing the camera lens and looking straight into them with narrowed eyes. Biting her lip as she holds it between her thumb and fingers; making sure that the shot still got a good portion of her face in it, nonetheless.

“Stop i—“ Church cuts her off there, and pulls her closer to himself by her waist; pointing the camera towards himself now, because she’s on this end and not the other. She shoulders herself into him as roughly as possible; but there’s that playful smirk that lets him know that she’s just joking and doesn’t really mind.

Later on, Leonard Church is going to look over that file and find that he’s said something he doesn’t want to think over and he’s going to get rid of this snippet. This snippet that shows him—much younger, with the traces of a light stubble framing his jaw that’s only there because he doesn’t bother using a straight razer. This snippet that shows him, much younger; with fantastic green eyes that don’t seem to fit him at all, and therefore end up standing out and being the best feature. This snippet that shows him and his dark hair alongside Allison. Allison and her blond hair finally pulled back into a ponytail; which she usually didn’t bother with unless it was absolutely necessary. Allison and her wonderfully playful smile that can be remembered in more than just a few ways. Allison and her armour and her hat; her face and his own framed in the camera. A few details being cut out because the device is incapable of capturing it all. She’s leaning as close as she can against his face, and while Church—in that moment—did not treasure that warm feeling he’d felt so often—learns to treasure that later without barely a problem. They’re both smiling; Leonard’s is more prominent than her sly and barely-visible grin, but it’s definitely there. They are both smiling, and they are very much forcing themselves to do so for the sake of this recording.

“When you come back I’m going to tease you about this all the time,” Church comments. The idea of being on-camera makes his tone a lot more playful and a lot less malevolent.

“I’m going to remind you that you were trying to be extra gooshy and that this was your idea and you basically made me do it.”

“When you come back _I’m_ going to re-word that and tell everyone else differently—“

“Leonard, stop it.”

“—And when you come back I’m—“

She pulls away from the camera before she continues talking. Waiting for Church to get the angle right again, because this was one of those important portions he would probably want to have on this video. “Stop it. You’re going to make me late,” smiling a half-hearted smile; Allison is still looking into the lenses, because apparently she knows that Church is going to be looking at this later and he’s going to enjoy the illusion of her talking directly to him through whatever screen he watched this on.

Church distinctively holds an arm out to her. Trying to grab her hand and pull her in for one last word, but now she’s a little pissed. Getting impatient with him, and honestly; he can’t blame her for that. So Allison pushes him away and looks sternly at the camera; her eyes narrowed, biting her bottom lip. But she’s quick to sweeten the expression. Better not to hurt a guy’s feeling when he’s going to be looking at this on camera, right?

“Leonard. I have to go.”

_I know._

“Don’t make me hurt you,” only now does she allow the aggressive expression to dance across his face. It’s obviously sarcastic and a jokingly thing, and no-matter where Leonard would be watching it at; he’d take it exactly that way. Sarcasm was a thing that both of them used very often, and if anything: it had slowly became a sub-language for them to communicate through.

“Alright, alright. I won’t make you hurt me,” Church rolls his eyes, holding the camera steady; but suddenly his grip falters and it shakes between his fingers. It doesn’t get remotely close to dropping it. In-fact: his entire body shook for a moment. He still doesn’t want this to happen. He still doesn’t want her to go, but. . . well; duty called. He wasn’t part of that duty, but she was: and Church was going to hold his chin up high while he she walked away from him. She wasn’t saying goodbye, right? And they both had that mutual agreement on what ‘goodbye’ meant. They never side goodbye because of that mutual agreement, and right now was no different.

“And don’t worry.” Allison’s tone is to-the-point again, and behind the camera Church is looking up. His interest had suddenly peeked; and he was doing his best to balance the camera in his hands now. He didn’t want it to shake like it had before. He swallows the spit that’s been forming in his mouth with a heavy gulp; and his expression goes entirely neutral—looking attentive, nonetheless.

“You’ll see me again,” she slings the heavy bag over her shoulder and holds the gun underneath her free arm; shooting one more glance at the camera before she goes off in the direction she has to. Church doesn’t follow her beyond that, though—and honestly, he isn’t following her with words either. He’s been so pleasant and as happy-go-lucky as possible so far. He doesn’t want that here and he doesn’t want that anymore. He’s going to cut out all that gooshy bullshit and he’s never going to mention it again. 

Leonard Church with his bright-green eyes and jaw-framing stubble and dark hair looks truly solemn as Allison slowly subsides off camera; and while the camera never caught the words, he’s very sure that he can hear an equally solemn whisper from Allison.

_"I hate goodbyes."_


End file.
